Mbappé was flying, his strides eating up the pitch with terrifying ease. Each step felt inevitable, every touch on the ball a declaration of his dominance.
The French fans roared, sensing danger, anticipation crackling through the air.
Carvajal, retreating with everything he had, angled his body, determined to slow the French captain.
He knew he couldn't stop him alone—but he just needed to stall, just a second, just enough.
And then came the answer.
Izan.
A blur of red.
Like a missile locked onto its target, he surged forward, his electric pace igniting gasps from the crowd.
He was moving faster than anyone else on the pitch, slicing through space, closing the impossible gap with a terrifying inevitability.
The Spanish fans erupted in disbelief.
"Look at Izan! Look at him go! My word, he is flying!"
Peter Drury's voice trembled with awe.
